


When We Were Young

by mitslits



Series: Prompts [37]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Angst, M/M, young!harry au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 05:43:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5322665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitslits/pseuds/mitslits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>i just saw another country, and i can't stop thinking about harry that age and eggsy together. young harry could be one of the candidates that was put forward at the same time as eggsy. at first they can't stand each other because eggsy thinks harry is just a posh, spoiled rich guy and harry thinks eggsy is brash and rude. but as they're trained they find out they have a lot of common and of course there's sexual tension. and you can guess what happens next lol.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When We Were Young

**Author's Note:**

> Never actually seen Another Country, took a stab at this anyways.

Eggsy isn’t sure what it is he’s expecting when Merlin nods towards the pair of double doors in front of him. He glances up at his father (who is apparently not just the Lee Unwin he always knew, but also Agent Galahad a _fucking spy_ ) but Lee doesn’t say anything, just raises an eyebrow, one corner of his mouth twitching up in something that might be called a smile under less confusing circumstances.

Merlin clears his throat and Eggsy wraps his fingers around the handle, tugs the door open, and steps inside. The group that greets him already have him feeling out of place and so far all he’s done is breathe their air. But that’s sign number one, innit? he thinks. They’re obviously the ones who have the greater claim to it; he’s just there taking it up. His dad has some explaining to do.

He doesn’t have long to dwell on this before Merlin is slipping in behind him, expounding on how they’re about to ‘embark on the most dangerous job interview in the world’, whatever that means. The magician lifts up a shapeless mass and tilts his head towards it. “Does anyone know what this is?”

‘Body bag’ Eggsy’s mind supplies. God knows he saw enough of them in the Marines.

A young man raises his hand and Eggsy catches the movement out of the corner of his eye. He turns his head to get a better look at him and has to bite his lip to keep from snorting in amusement. His hair is obviously not a thing to be tamed, mass of brown curls that it is. Whiskey-brown eyes are sharp and alert and his posture is that of one who legitimately put books on top of their head to practice when they were younger. In other words, he’s the very picture of a posh brat. Wonderful.

Merlin nods at him and the young man’s hand falls to his side, shoulders getting impossibly straighter. “Body bag, sir,” he replies without hesitation and Eggsy has to admit he’s a bit startled by it. It lies at odds with his slim frame, deeper than anticipated.

Doesn’t change anything. Still a git.

“That’s correct,” Merlin says and Eggsy realizes time is, in fact, still moving. “Harry, isn’t it?”

The young man, Harry now, nods and goes back to standing at attention. He seems to sense Eggsy looking at him, side-eyes him critically. Apparently he doesn’t like what he sees because he only rolls his eyes and returns them to the front.

Still a git indeed. 

-

“Eggsy, well done for spotting that was a two-way mirror,” Merlin says, but any warmth the comment afforded him is quickly swept away by Harry’s jibe. It doesn’t help that it’s true.

“But as far as I’m concerned, every single one of you has failed,” Merlin continues, pointing his pen at them sternly. “You all forgot _the_ most important thing. Teamwork.”

Brow furrowing, Eggsy picks himself up off the floor, ignoring the water that trickles down his back. It’s more than a chill that raises goosebumps on his skin when he spots the dark-haired woman sprawled on a bed, lifeless limbs akimbo.

There’s a soft exhalation of breath at his back and he glances behind him to see Harry standing nearby, eyes fixed on Amelia. Eggsy thinks he looks almost guilty.

-

Eggsy’s face crumples in confusion and his eyes flick down to the small pup at his feet, mouth open, panting happily. “It’s a bulldog, innit?” he asks, glancing back at Roxy. When she only looks at him he presses, “It’ll get bigger, though, won’t it?”

She shakes her head sympathetically.

That would be bad enough, all of it. Mixing up a pug and a bulldog, sticking himself with the smallest dog of the lot, letting Roxy know how ignorant he was in matters like these, but what makes it truly unbearable is the near-palpable smug superiority rolling off Harry in waves.

“Shit,” he curses.

Harry snorts.

-

“You wanna tell me what the fuck your deal is?” Eggsy mumbles, belly flat to the ground, eye practically glued to the scope. Roxy’s getting close to centering up in his crosshairs, but she’s not quite there yet.

Harry glances over at him, camo leaves hanging off his helmet shifting slightly with the movement. “I don’t have a deal,” he states simply before going back to his own task of making sure their area is clear.

Eggsy would roll his eyes but that would mean taking them off the target and Harry wouldn’t even see it anyways. He settles for scoffing disdainfully. “You been lookin’ at me like I’m a piece of shit that just won’t flush since I got here.”

“Don’t take it personally, Eggsy,” Harry says. “I’d feel the same way about anybody like you.”

His words have a tone that implies he would be condescendingly patting him on the shoulder if he had a hand free. Eggsy thinks he’d quite like to rip that imaginary hand right off. “An’ what the fuck do you know ‘bout people like me?” he mutters under his breath.

Roxy has wandered dangerously close now. Two steps more. One step. He’s got her.

The gun cracks and she shrieks.

“Might want to climb down off your ivory tower, there, bruv,” Eggsy smirks.

-

They’re all in a line-up and Eggsy glances at Roxy, a question in his eyes. She just shrugs, indicates that she has no idea what’s going on either. They all turn to face Merlin as he enters.

“There will be many situations where you’ll find yourself in close quarters,” the magician says without preamble, tablet in hand. “We’d like to be certain you can fight your way out of those quarters. Pair up.”

Eggsy and Roxy fall in across from each other. He pretends not to notice that Harry is right behind him, squaring up against Digby.

“You have two minutes to make your opponent yield. Good luck.” Merlin clicks a stopwatch and steps back, out of the melee.

Roxy catches Eggsy off guard, launching herself at him before Merlin’s even out of the room proper. His head snaps to the side, her knuckles skimming across his jawline. She’s not pulling her punches, then.

Instantly, he centers himself, focuses his center of gravity so she can’t catch him off balance with the blow she’s already aiming at his gut. He crosses his forearms reflexively, shoving them down just in time to protect himself. Pain lances up his wrists as her fist meets his block but he doesn’t pay it much attention, windmilling his arms apart and forcing her arm away.

Roxy lurches forwards one step, Eggsy using his brief advantage to catch her wrist and tug, upsetting her further. She improvises, using her new momentum to propel herself forwards, wrapping her arms around Eggsy’s ankles as she hits the ground.

Legs suddenly trapped, Eggsy starts over backwards, flailing arms finding nothing but thin air. He topples over, landing on something considerably softer than the floor. And noisier. Floors don’t usually say ‘Fuck!’ in his experience. Or ‘Get off me.’

He rolls to one side, glancing down to find Harry glaring up at him from a rather undignified sprawl on the floor. Eggsy presses his lips together in a thin line of amusement.

“I don’t see anything funny,” Harry mutters as he peels himself up off the floor.

Eggsy doesn’t either, not after Merlin declares Roxy and Digby the winners of their matches and assigns him extra practice. With Harry no less.

Unfortunately, there isn’t any arguing with Merlin.

Roxy gives him a helpless shrug and mouths a ‘good luck’ as the rest of the candidates file out of the training room.

That leaves him, Harry, and an unfortunate amount of weapons. Thankfully, Harry doesn’t seem inclined to take the time to grab one of them. He attacks Eggsy with a distressing amount of skill, two fingers jabbing almost directly into his solar plexus.

Eggsy stumbles backwards, lungs screaming for the air that was just driven out of them. He doesn’t have time to do anything before the flat of Harry’s hand is cracking into the bottom of his ribs. He’s obviously outmatched, that much is clear. He’d probably be able to get in a couple of blows, but not without fucking himself up. Which means he can really only run. Instantly, he’s on the alert, feet carrying him backwards quickly, weaving around obstacles on the floor without even really thinking about it. Retreat is something he’s used to.

Then he spots it. His saving grace is a small pole about halfway up the wall. It only sticks out a few feet, has a circular piece on the end like it used to hold a clock, but it’s empty now and that’s good news for Eggsy. He ducks and weaves, trying to avoid the onslaught that is Harry until he’s only a few feet away from the wall.

Harry’s smirking, thinking he’s got him cornered and the fight will be over in a few more seconds. He’s not prepared for Eggsy to spin around and run straight for the wall. He’s not prepared for him to take a couple paces and launch himself forwards. And he’s certainly not prepared for him to run a couple steps up the wall, close his hand around the pole and haul himself upwards as if it isn’t a problem at all.

Eggsy is in his element now. He pulls himself up, balancing on the slim rod, already locating his next target. Stopping gives his opponent time to think. He doesn’t think Harry can reach up here, but he never knows. So it’s only a bit of a pause before he jumps upwards, fingers securing over the small lip that is the edge of the tiled wall. He pulls himself onto the ledge, teeters on the lip for no more than a split second before spinning to give himself more momentum, pushing off with one foot, hands reaching out for the exposed rafters. His whole upper body thuds into the nearest metal beam and, for a couple terrifying seconds, his legs dangle in thin air. With one final heave he pulls himself up completely, flopping over on his back, one arm hanging off the edge, the other stretched over his forehead as he tries to catch his breath.

“Eggsy?” he hears. Grimacing, he shifts to lie on his stomach instead, glancing down at Harry who’s a good twenty feet below him at this point. The other man looks… well, shocked is really the only way to put it.

“Be down in a sec, bruv,” he says lightly, trying his best to sound cheeky and not even a touch out of breath. “Just need a bit to enjoy the view.”

-

After that, things get a little better. Harry still glances at him but the looks are contemplative, not scornful.

Eggsy still does what he can to avoid him, but it doesn’t seem as necessary now as it did before. 

-

Eggsy bursts into medical, glances over at the bed his father is lying on. Lee doesn’t look right, somehow. He looks impossibly small stretched out on the bed with tubes running in and out of him, a brace surrounding his neck.

“Is he gonna be alright?” he asks Merlin, eyes fixed on the wan figure, only looking over at the magician when he starts to speak.

“We hope so. Just focus on your training, Eggsy. Make it through. Make him proud. You’ve only a few more tests to pass.”

Eggsy takes another look at the sad line his father cuts and nods around the lump in his throat. He doesn’t linger, just spins on his heel and pushes out through the doors, suddenly feeling as if he can’t breathe right.

“Eggsy!”

He recognizes the voice and he doesn’t stop walking, increases his pace, actually. He needs to be out of the medical ward and Harry is the last person he wants to see right now. Nearly tripping over himself, Eggsy pushes into the fresh air, back thudding against the brick wall. His heartbeat roars in his ears and he squeezes his eyes shut, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

The beeping of a heart monitor is all he can hear in his ears and he doubles over, mouth stretched open in a silent scream. His father is dying.

Then there are hands on his shoulders, fingers on his chin, forcing it up. “Here.” Harry’s voice sounds like it’s coming down a tunnel before making it to Eggsy. There’s the crinkled edge of a plastic bag shoved up to his mouth. “Breathe.”

Eggsy obeys without thinking, exhaling into the paper bag. He spends a few more seconds with it pressed to his lips before his breathing regulates and the beep of the imaginary heart monitor subsides.

Harry lets his arm fall back to his side, the paper bag still clutched in his grasp.

“Thanks,” Eggsy mutters, leaning back against the wall of the hospital and sighing. “How did you-?”

“Stroke, for my father,” Harry says, settling in near Eggsy and folding his arms over his chest. He doesn’t look over at him, just stares blankly ahead at the car park, eyes slightly unfocused. “I didn’t do well with it, either, seeing him hooked up to all that shit in there. You never think of them as fragile until you have proof.” He sighs. Pushes off the wall. Pauses. “Here. You might need this again.” He offers up the bag.

Eggsy blinks at him a moment before reaching out to take it. Their fingers brush over each other briefly but neither of them mention it.

“Thanks,” Eggsy repeats.

Harry shrugs and walks off. He shoves his hands in his pockets.

-

When Lee gets out of medical Harry even shoots him a smile.

-

Roxy and Eggsy almost die after they fall out of a plane, but they hit the target. Then it’s just three of them left.

They’re all three informed that they have twenty-four hours to spend with their proposer. Roxy goes off with Percival, Harry with Bedivere, and Eggsy is left with his father.

They mix proper martinis and Eggsy peppers him with questions.

“So all those business trips-?” “Missions.”

“An’ you’ve been a spy for…?” “Seventeen years.”

“Shit.” “Yup.”

Lee takes him to the tailor shop that started it all and leads him through a dressing room wall to a hidden weapons cache.

“Click the heels.” “That is sick.”

“Primed. Lethal.” “Looks like fun.”

“Hand grenade.” “Shut up.”

Eggsy sits in his father’s study, drawing patterns on the carpet with his shoe. “You didn’t fit in here, neither, did you?” he asks suddenly, glancing up.

Lee smiles softly, shaking his head in what Eggsy thinks is an answer to his question. “You don’t need a bloodline to fit in, Eggsy. You are what you make yourself.”

Eggsy falls quiet, sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and worries at it. For some reason he thinks of Harry.

-

Eggsy’s mouth falls open, lips slightly swollen from being kissed. His head tilts back and his hips arch forwards as hands trail lightly down his sides.

Teeth skim over his collarbone, fingers tug the fabric of his shirt out of the way so a kiss can be placed on the bare skin of his shoulder. Eggsy shudders as the mouth moves to his neck. He winds his arms around the other man’s back, fingers tangling in brown curls. They give an involuntary tug as he’s bitten, a ring of red marring him now.

His breath hitches in his chest as a hand travels down his chest, palms at his cock through the thin fabric of his pyjama pants. “Eggsy,” a rich, familiar voice whispers in his ear. “Breathe.”

He wakes to tangled sheets, a straining erection, and the thought that is going to make things distinctly awkward the next time he sees Harry.

-

They’re sitting, catching the latest announcement about Valentine’s SIM cards in the barracks when Merlin enters with a file in his hands.

Merlin smiles slightly in response to Harry’s inquiry as to who the girl he’s looking at is. “That’s Lady Sophie. Your mission is to win her over. And I do mean in the Biblical sense.”

“Posh girls love a bit of rough,” Eggsy declares confidently, smirking over at Roxy. He almost misses the slight hitch in Harry’s chest. Then he doubts he even saw it.

“We’ll see about that,” Harry says smoothly, flipping his picture around to reveal the same girl. He meets Eggsy’s gaze steadily, a slight smile playing around the edge of his lips.

Eggsy can feel color rising in his cheeks but, thankfully, Roxy directs Harry’s attention away with a confident, “We certainly will.”

Harry smirks at the revelation that her target is the same, gaze flicking back to Eggsy. “A three-way, then.”

Eggsy chokes a little bit.

-

There’s a foul taste in his mouth and he’s lost both Harry and Roxy. Eggsy tips back another sip of the champagne trying to wash away whatever it is that’s lingering, wants it gone. Maybe, he figures when the taste only grows more noticeable, it’s the drink itself.

Well, at least it gives him an opening line.

“Speaking of textbook,” Harry smirks, and the way he drags his eyes over Eggsy have the memory of his dream flashing up again.

Not the time, he tells himself, but his mind doesn’t listen. He recognizes that Harry is still speaking, but he’s too busy wondering if they champagne on his lips tastes any better than the stuff in his glass to listen.

“…so that you crave individual attention.”

Eggsy blinks as he realizes they’re all looking over at him expectantly and he just says the first thing that comes to mind, hopes it fits into the conversation. “Nah, I’m just sayin’ the champagne tastes rank.”

Harry tilts his head to one side, eyes narrowing slightly. “That would be because it’s cheap.”

Eggsy scoffs. “An’ how do you know what cheap champagne tastes like?” he challenges. Eggsy’s had it, of course, at his mother’s New Year’s parties and Christmas dinners, but Harry doesn’t look like he’s had anything of a lesser quality than a 1928 Krug since he started drinking.

Harry opens his mouth to reply before he halts, glancing around in apparent surprise. “Where’d they get off to?” he asks, barely audible over the thumping music.

It’s only then that Eggsy realizes Roxy and Sophie have disappeared, presumably together.  “Shit,” he sighs, sinking down onto the seat next to Harry. “Guess we fucked it up, yeah?” he asks, voice a bit slurred, Harry’s face swimming in front of his eyes. Apparently champagne gets him drunk faster than he remembers.

But Harry looks just as bad off, chin dipping forwards to his chest, slack-jawed.

Black pushes at the edge of his vision and Eggsy suddenly feels like his eyelids are far too heavy. They close, plunging him into darkness.

-

He wakes up tied to train tracks.

He pleads for his life.

He struggles against the ropes.

But he doesn’t tell the sadistic fuck with a knife about Kingsman.

-

Neither do Roxy or Harry, apparently. Merlin tells them where to report the next morning and sends them on their way.

Eggsy stays awake long after the others, staring up at the ceiling. He’s hyper-aware of every breath Harry takes and that stupid dream will not _go the fuck away_. He absolutely refuses to wank one out, especially when the person of interest is lying in the bed right next to his, but he can’t deny it would be helpful. With a frustrated groan (far too quiet to be satisfying), Eggsy flips over to lie on his stomach, buries his face in his pillow, and finally falls into an uneasy sleep.

He wakes bleary-eyed and grateful that both Harry’s and Roxy’s beds are empty. Which probably means he’s late, come to think of it. Shit. The sudden burst of panic wakes him up more fully and he scrambles to struggle into the jumper, zipping it up and whistling for JB.

The pug obediently falls in at his heels and he hurries through the corridors until he reaches the library where he’s supposed to be meeting Arthur. Sparing only a second to take a deep breath and smooth back his hair, Eggsy raps his knuckles against the door, swinging it open at Arthur’s muted, “Come in.”

Slightly anxious, Eggsy takes a seat when he’s bid, JB settling himself next to the chair.  His nerves melt away, replaced with a small ember of pride as the head of Kingsman compliments him on his progress, on what he’s done with JB.

Then the blood in his veins turn to ice when Arthur points a gun straight at his heart and it doesn’t thaw when he’s told to shoot his dog. Heart in his mouth, Eggsy turns the weapon on JB, finger hovering over the trigger. His mind is filled to bursting and completely blank at the same time. Shoot the dog, become a Kingsman. Don’t and go right back where he started. Shoot, don’t, shoot, don’t, shoot-

There’s a crack from the room to his left and another from a room to his right. He hands the gun back to Arthur.

“Get out,” the king snaps.

Eggsy does.

-

His fingers tighten around the glass of beer in his hands and he wishes he could slug it down. He wants to get pissed, he does, but he’s just… not. He doesn’t want to wake up in the morning with a dry mouth and a pounding head and another reason to consider himself a failure. Groaning, he buries his head in his hands. Much as he might have missed out on, he can’t bring himself to regret the decision. Shooting JB wouldn’t have proved anything, would have been senseless.

The door of the pub opens and Eggsy wouldn’t pay that any attention except the person who enters has a distinctive set to his shoulders, a stiff posture that is clearly at odds with the majority of the clientele.

_What the fuck is Harry Hart doing here?_

It’s not a question Eggsy wants answered. He slides out of the booth, heading for the back entrance, but a call of “Eggsy!” lets him know it’s too late. He’s been spotted. Lip curled slightly, Eggsy turns to face Harry.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Harry huffs, stopping in front of him.

“You shot your dog just to get a fuckin’ job,” Eggsy shoots right back, earning them a couple of turning heads.

Harry’s eyes flash briefly and he grabs Eggsy’s wrist, drags him through the crowd until they’re in the back corner near the bar and nobody’s paying them any attention. “It would be smart of you to keep your voice down a bit, Eggsy,” he hisses.

“Fine,” Eggsy sneers, lowering his voice to a whisper. “You shot your dog just to get a fuckin’ job. Rox, too.”

Harry sighs and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment as if he’s praying for patience. “It was a _blank_ , Eggsy, couldn’t you tell? What point would killing our dogs have had?”

Eggsy’s mouth falls open but there isn’t much he can say. “A blank,” he mutters to himself, feeling like more of an idiot than he ever has before. Of course it was. It had been just another Kingsman test, after all, and hadn’t all of their tests had tricks? After a moment of silence has passed he glances back up at Harry, brow furrowed in confusion. “That don’t explain why you’re here, Harry.”

Harry clears his throat, glancing away. If Eggsy didn’t know him better he would even say he looked uncomfortable, especially with the way he’s shifting his weight from foot to foot. Shrugging helplessly, he finally looks back at Eggsy. “I just… thought you should know,” he mutters.

A sudden realization strikes Eggsy. He’d wanted him to know, yes, because Harry hadn’t wanted Eggsy to think ill of him. Harry would obviously have known Eggsy couldn’t shoot his dog and he wanted to reassure him that he hadn’t been able to gun his down in cold blood either. For whatever reason, Harry seems to care about being in Eggsy’s good standing.

“I should get back to headquarters,” Harry continues, taking Eggsy’s silence as a sign that he’s made a mistake.

Eggsy doesn’t think, just acts. He reaches out to curl his fingers around the collar of Harry’s shirt, keeping him where he is. “Tell me if I’m wrong,” he says earnestly, eyes flicking over the other man’s searchingly.

Harry’s brows knit together and he opens his mouth to ask something to the effect of ‘wrong about what’, but Eggsy doesn’t give him the chance, tugs him down until their lips meet, curves his body into Harry’s.

This could very well turn out to be embarrassing, Eggsy thinks, but Harry’s going off to Kingsman anyways. They never have to see each other again if they don’t want to. But when he releases his hold on the shirt and pulls back, Harry is smirking.

“Perhaps I won’t hurry back to Kingsman, after all,” he says, but it sounds more like a question than an assertion.

Eggsy reaches for his hand, tangling their fingers together and using the hold to lead him towards the doors of the pub. The only answer he gives is a wink.

-

The shifting of the mattress wakes Eggsy the next morning and he peels one eye half-open to see Harry rolling to his feet. He’d appreciate the sight of his naked body more if he wasn’t still mostly asleep. “Harry?” he mutters as the other man starts tugging on his pants.

Pausing at the sound of his name, Harry runs his fingers through Eggsy’s hair, pushing it back from his forehead. “Go back to sleep, Eggsy. I have to get back to Kingsman; they’re sending Roxy and I out on field missions for our final tests. I’m going with your father, actually.” This last he says while donning the rest of his clothes until all he has left to do is lace up his shoes. He sits on the edge of the bed, tugging them on.

“Where ya goin’?” Eggsy mumbles sleepily, one arm snaking out until the tips of his fingers rest against the small of Harry’s back just so he can feel him, make sure this isn’t some sort of dream again.

Harry turns until he can capture his hand, bringing it to his mouth and kissing it gently before he leans forward to press another one to Eggsy’s lips. “Kentucky,” he says against them. “I’ll find you when I get back, Eggsy. I promise.”

Eggsy nods and Harry stands, walks out of the room without a backwards glance.

-

Eggsy knows what Kingsman is; he doesn’t need to guess why Harry doesn’t keep that promise.


End file.
